Uvivi
by seilleanmor
Summary: Summer of 2010. Just a little twist on things that wouldn't quite let me go.
1. Chapter 1

**Uvivi**

_The darkness before the dawn (Zulu)_

* * *

There's not a chance in hell she's about to admit it, not even to herself, but Kate Beckett is moping. Oh sure, to anyone that doesn't know her Beckett seems her usual self - brisk, no nonsense, a book firmly closed. The sting of her own words is still a rough edge inside, a place that makes Kate want to curl up and tend to her wounds in private.

_I'm not the easiest person to get to know_.

And then, how easily she proved herself right. The only man who has ever truly made the effort, ever stuck around, and even he failed to see that there was a tremulous bloom of hope in Kate's chest. Preparedness. For those five minutes, she had been ready to throw herself into whatever this is with Castle. See where the tide took them.

The harpy showing up in her precinct scuppered that before Kate even got the chance to draw a fortifying breath. Well, that's unkind. And untrue. Gina has always been perfectly pleasant to Kate whenever they've spoken together. A laughing undercurrent to the publisher's words as she asked Beckett to please tell Richard to return her calls. As if to say _you know what he's like_.

Something of a companionship, really; each of them has to grapple with the childish, petulant side of Rick Castle. And, too, each of them is swayed by his charms, willing to put their heart at risk for him. It's probably the worst part, in all honesty.

Beckett can't hate Gina. Can't hate Castle either. Not really. All of that sick, pungent loathing is directed at her own sorry self. How foolish she was to tell him no so many times. Even her shadow, even her boy who never grew up, gave up on her.

"Kate." Lanie says; the tone of her voice suggests it isn't the first time she's tried to get Beckett's attention.

Too easily these days, she spirals down into misery and distraction. Even the boys are noticing. It would be hard for them not to, with the amount of her slack they're having to pick up. "Sorry. Daydreaming. What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted more wine. But I feel like you're miserable enough without the alcohol."

Two glasses into their evening, Kate has to agree. It's only bringing down the barriers against her own self, letting the truth of her bruised heart rush in and suck her down to drowning.

"Maybe best not."

"Uh-huh. So. What are you gonna do?"

"Do?" Kate glances up at her best friend, a hand coming up to scrub at the furrow between her brows. There's a semi-permanent headache lodging there now, has been for days. Almost from the moment Castle turned his back on her that sharp flare of pain has pulsed in her forehead and temples. "What do you mean?"

Lanie huffs, takes a generous sip of her own wine. "What, are you just gonna mope forever? You gotta go get your man back, Kate."

"He was never mine, you know that." Beckett grits out. Legs folded underneath herself on Lanie's couch and her wrists poking thin and awkward out from the ends of her sweatshirt, Kate feels spidery and ill with it.

Without Castle around to remind her, cast those long and furtive glances at the clock high up on the wall of the bullpen, she has been. . .not the best at remembering to eat enough to actually constitute a meal. And that's ridiculous, because she managed just fine before him and it's just utterly unfair that he strode in to her life and forced her to rearrange everything around him and then he walked back out with just as much ease.

"Girl, please. That man was yours the moment he laid eyes on you. Everyone saw it except you." Lanie is saying now, twirling the stem of her empty glass between two fingers.

Tonight, she showed up uninvited at Kate's door and came inside, brushing past Kate as if she weren't half-blocking the threshold with her body. Although, right now Kate feels fragile as reed grass, and so she really never stood a chance against the hurricane of her best friend.

Grief has a taste. Kate learned this at nineteen, curled up on top of her sheets and biting at the skin of her own hand so her father didn't hear her. There are ways to mask it, ways to smother it with alcohol that she very quickly gave up after she saw what it did to her dad.

The sight of his bloated body sinking down into the bottle will never leave her, is the reason why she is always careful to know her limits, to never stray far from the sharp flint of sobriety.

Now, she swallows hard and wishes she had said yes to more wine. "No, Lanie. I never. . .staked my claim. How was he supposed to know?"

"Honey, I hate seeing you like this." Lanie soothes, a gentle hand curling around Kate's shoulder. "You and Castle have no closure. You have to talk to him, either to tell him that you're crazy about him or to cut your losses. And then you can move forward."

There's no easy way to explain that she's fortified her heart against him already; even if he showed up at her door right now and said he wanted her she isn't sure that she could give in to how dreadfully much she wants him back.

"I can't do that, Lane. It's not fair of me to tell him how I feel if he and Gina are giving it another shot. And maybe he will come back in the fall." She feels like a child. Naïve and silly and hoping that the boy she has a crush on will like her back.

Well, more than a boy. And - more than a crush.

"He's not coming back, Kate." Her best friend says quietly, staring into the belly of her wine glass now. "To watch you and Demming play house? No. He's done."

"But Tom and I aren't-"

"_You_ know that, and _I_ know that, but Castle? He thinks you two are falling for each other."

Oh, Castle. Her heart cries out in sympathy for his. How much Kate has hurt him, parading Demming around the precinct like a shiny new toy. Even Esposito called her out on it, for God's sake. How badly must she have messed up that Javier feels he needs to steer her right again?

Her poor, abused bottom lip is red raw by now, but Kate doesn't even feel it as she sinks her teeth in and lifts her chin to meet Lanie's eyes. "I don't know what to do."

It's with some trepidation that Beckett allows herself to be tugged into an embrace. She's never been big on physical affection, on snuggling, and Lanie knows that. But Lanie often knows what Kate needs way ahead of when Beckett herself realises, so for now she trusts her friend and lays her head against Dr Parish's shoulder.

"Here's what you do. You have this weekend off, right?"

"Yes." Memorial day has come and gone, but Beckett worked the holiday weekend and so Captain Montgomery is forcing her to take this one instead.

"So, you call him. You tell him that you were an idiot to say yes to Demming, that you broke things off, and that you really want to see where things could go with you and him."

Bristling at the thought, Kate shakes her head. "I can't do that to him, Lanie. That's not fair. I won't be the other woman. I won't make him choose."

"Okay, then you call as a friend. Say that you missed him, ask how the book is going. Scope him out. You're a detective. Detect."

That has a reluctant bubble of laughter escaping her, wetter than she would have liked. As if some horrifying clog of moisture and emotion is waiting at the bottom of her throat to come spilling out. "We don't do that. Call just to talk. He'll know something's up."

"I don't know what to suggest then, Beckett." Lanie sighs, exasperation adding an acerbic edge to her words that Beckett knows her friend doesn't really mean.

Kate isn't trying to be awkward. It's just an impossible situation. There's no right answer here, no one path that will make all of her hurt go away and still leave her dignity intact. She will not beg for Castle's affection. "I just have to leave it. Let him decide. If he's happy with Gina then that's good, I'm glad. I want him to be happy."

"Oh Kate." Lanie murmurs, holding her tighter. "You want him to be happy, even if that means walking away from you? You really do have it bad."

Maybe, a couple months down the line when Kate has had time to heal, she might be angry at him for giving up so easily. But right now? She doesn't have the strength, can't force herself to rally past the hurt. "I just have to carry on. Things will go back to how they were before him."

Only, she isn't sure that they can.

* * *

Since Castle left, Kate has taken to stopping for coffee on her way in to the precinct in the morning. It's an extra twenty minutes onto her journey each day, but so worth it. The coffee at the precinct is intolerable. Monkey pee in battery acid is not even a little bit hyperbolic.

And that damn espresso machine he bought for the break room. She refused to learn how to use the thing, largely because she liked receiving her coffee from Castle, liked the way he used to puff up with pride and delight at doing this one thing to be useful to her. And now she's stranded, unable to even fix herself a damn cup of coffee without aching around his absence.

So, her first cup of the day comes from the cozy place a couple blocks away from her apartment. And then the rest of the day she can subsist on awful precinct coffee. Not that she's been drinking anywhere near as much as she used to; sleep has been an elusive, hard to capture thing recently, so Kate has cut back her caffeine intake in the desperate and most likely fruitless hope that it will let her get just a few hours rest.

Kate takes the to-go cup from the girl at the counter and offers her a smile, backing up out of the way of a gaggle of tourists eager to claim their own drinks. She's distracted this morning - two weeks since Castle walked out of her life - and so she doesn't check that her path is clear.

She takes a step backwards and bumps up against a body behind her. There's a curse, a female voice, and Kate whirls around with a heartfelt apology thickening her tongue. Only for it to splinter apart as her jaw tightens in surprise. "Gina?"

"Detective." Castle's publisher says tightly, grabbing a handful of napkins to blot at the spill of coffee over her wrist and the counter. It must hurt, that freshly brewed espresso tumbling a scalding path over her skin, but Gina barely flinches.

"I'm so sorry." Kate says, reaching out to take Gina's cup so the woman has both her hands free to deal with the mess Beckett has inadvertently made.

"It's fine."

"What are you doing here? Back in town, I mean." Beckett manages to ask, proud of how clear and strong her voice is.

Whoa.

Kate takes a stumbling step away from the counter and from Gina both, withering a little under the scowl Castle's ex-wife levels on her. She knows the two of them aren't exactly friends, but she really wasn't prepared for the hard edge of irritation meeting her now.

"I left. I can keep track of Rick via calls and email. I don't need to be there for that."

Forcing her forehead to smooth out, her face a careful mask of mild interest, Kate takes a sip of her coffee. It's hot enough to burn her tongue, but that's the way she likes her first mouthful to be. "I thought you guys were. . ."

Reconciling. Sleeping together. Giving it another shot.

All viable options for the end of Kate's sentence, but it looks as if anything she may have said would have left the same sour expression puckering Gina's face. "We were. But he was lovesick, and not for me. I thought, give him a little time. I know he's always fawned over you."

She cuts herself off there, and Kate wonders what else remains unsaid. And, awful as it may be, a little shiver of relief clatters through her. She's not the only one grieving the end of their working relationship. And maybe too, the premature death of a more personal one.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know he cares about you." Kate manages to say, even if it isn't entirely true. Castle does care, yes, but he also bemoans his ex wife at every available opportunity. She really never expected him to give things with Gina another shot.

Castle's ex turns her nose up at that and snatches her own coffee up from the counter, pushing her way past Kate. It seems as if she's going to leave without a backwards glance, but then she spins on her heel to face Beckett again.

"If he cares about me, he really should try not saying another woman's name when we're in bed together."

Her jaw drops - so do several others in the little coffee shop - and Kate is helpless but to watch Gina cut her way through the queue that snakes lazily around the counter and storm out of the door.

Dumbstruck, she lifts a hand to her cheek, feeling the sting as sharply as if Gina had actually slapped her. And still, her words aren't quite sinking in.

Castle did _what_?

* * *

**A/N:** At least one more part to this. Probably two. Hopefully soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Uvivi**

* * *

"You are being seriously weird." Lanie says sharply, wielding a scalpel in Kate's direction. The razor edge of metal comes close enough that Kate yelps and takes a stumbling step backward, hoists herself up to sit on the countertop instead. After her. . .encounter, with Castle's ex-wife yesterday, Beckett has been seriously uneasy and she needs the hard press of the counter's edge at the backs of her thighs just to stay tethered to the ground.

A billion different scenarios swim around, gestating inside of her brain and she truly has no idea what to do. So obviously, it seemed like a natural course of action to buy lunch for her best friend today and head over to the morgue to share food and seek advice both.

"I'm not being weird."

Lanie scoffs, rolling her eyes and setting the scalpel down in the tray with all of her other terrifying medical instruments. She hasn't washed her hands yet; Kate only just arrived, and really what does it say about how absolutely pathetic she is that already her best friend knows something more is going on?

More than what they talked about. More than the awkward, defensive way that Kate has wanted to curl up into herself. Drumming her heels against the wood of the cabinet door, Kate chews on the inside of her cheek and waits for Lanie to wash her hands and hang up her scrubs.

Castle used to wrinkle his nose at the idea of eating in the morgue. Even if it is one of the cleanest places in the whole city, the writer would steadfastly refuse to consider it. And god, how completely unfair of the universe that even something so innocuous - just getting lunch with her best friend - can't pass quietly by. Oh no, every tiny little piece of her life has a part of him woven through it like too-large stitches that warp the fabric of who she is.

"Okay. I'm assuming you still didn't call him?" Lanie says, taking a seat across from Kate and peeling the paper down around her sub to take a bite. "But clearly something happened."

Beckett shrinks a little under the wave of her best friend's hand, tracing a swirling pattern onto the waxy paper that her own sandwich wears. "I didn't call him. I-" A breath, and a plea to the courage that puffs up its chest in the face of killers not to abandon her now. "I bumped into Gina yesterday."

"She's back in the city?" Lanie raises an eyebrow, fishing a slice of tomato from out of her sandwich and dropping it into her mouth. It's a quirk that Kate has long since gotten used to, her best friend's need to deconstruct whatever she's eating and separate out all the different elements of it.

An acrid taste rises at the back of Kate's throat and she swallows hard, stares at her own knees. There's a thread poking loose at the knee of these slacks; she really needs to go shopping, but last time she tried she couldn't help but imagine what Castle would think of each item.

And that was before he left. It's just. . .not worth the desperate ache beneath the cage of her ribs. Maybe she'll just buy some stuff online and hope for the best.

"Yes. She came back because. . .because Castle said my name when they were in bed together."

Beckett glances up, just in time to see Lanie choke on her mouthful of food and reach desperately for the bottle of water on the counter next to her hip. She pops the cap and drains half of it in one go, her face gradually returning to its normal colour after the explosive flush of oxygen deprivation.

Eventually, she manages to suck in a breath and swipes a hand over her mouth. "Castle did _what_?"

"You heard me." Kate mutters, entirely unwilling to repeat herself. She doesn't know what has possessed her to tell Lanie this in the first place, only that keeping it inside has been making her feel shackled and hunched over and God knows if anyone can straighten her out, it's Dr Parish.

"Ohhh damn, Richard Castle." Lanie clicks her tongue, shaking her head. A grin shimmers at the corners of her mouth and Kate scowls, folding her arms across her chest and abandoning her lunch to the countertop next to her. "So when are you heading out there?"

"_What?_ Lanie, I'm not heading out there."

"Why the hell not?" Beckett shoots her friend a look, but it comes up against the wall of Lanie's determination and it crumples to dust at the doctor's feet. "Honey, the man said your name in the throes of passion. And now he's alone in the Hamptons, probably thinking about you with only his own hand for company."

Heat licks at Kate's cheeks and she buries her face in her palms, trying desperately not to- No. Too late. She's picturing it. Him. In the shower, or maybe at his desk, thinking about her, and. . .

Yeah. Beckett clears her throat, aware that the heat flaming at her cheeks is completely giving her away, but totally hopeless as to stopping it. "I can't do that Lanie. I can't just jump him. I don't even know if I want that."

"Girl, _please_." Lanie huffs, rolling her eyes and hopping down from the counter. She comes to stand right in front of Kate and pokes the sharp edge of a fingernail - ouch, thank you - into the flesh of Beckett's thigh. "You've been mooning over him for like a _month_. This thing between you two is seriously weird. You both gotta admit what you want and give in to it already."

It all sounds so easy, the way Lanie strings the plan together. But Kate. . .Kate isn't as brave as her friend, or as foolhardy. Even after eighteen months of working with Castle, even after he broke her heart and she forgave him, she's not sure that he's worth the risk.

The sex is not the problematic part. That, she knows, will be fantastic. And oh, shit, listen to her. _Will be_, because even in her own brain it's a foregone conclusion that someday she and Rick will jump each other. The problem lies in what comes after they do.

She can't picture a relationship with Castle. Can't imagine that he would want that, even if he has been following her around all this time.

"No, Lanie. It's. . .there's nothing keeping him in the Hamptons, but I haven't heard from him. Seems as if he's already made his choice."

Dr Parish growls low down in her throat and starts the process of rehashing the same tired argument, but Kate isn't even listening anymore. Her heart is set in self defence, and even Castle's charm couldn't reach it now.

* * *

Kate really needs to buy some new pajamas.

Perched on her high stool at the kitchen island, a glass of wine cradled in the bowl of one hand, she picks at the knee of her leggings and sighs, dipping her head. It's tragic really, how long it's been since she's had anyone to impress in the bedroom.

Demming never even came close. Not really. Before that it was a hookup at a bar who didn't stay long enough to leave his name, never mind see her in her PJs. And before that. . .right. Will.

Today, in deference to her poor, bruised heart, Kate threw on her favourite sleep shirt. It's huge, and red, and it's Castle's. She appropriated it after her old apartment exploded and it's one of the few things in her small, sad little sublet that is actually a comfort.

He must know that she has it - Castle is definitely the sort of man to notice when some of his clothing disappears - but he hasn't ever brought it up with her. Some small, secret part of herself thinks that maybe he quite likes the idea of her in his clothes. Even if he's not around to see it.

A knock at the front door startles Kate so badly that she jerks hard, bites her cheek. Pressing a hand to her face in a mostly futile attempt to soothe it, she slides down from her seat and heads for the entryway. She ate already, so it's not dinner.

"Coming, Lanie." She calls out, because who else is going to be stopping by unannounced at her apartment? She hasn't even gotten around to giving her dad the address yet, and the boys aren't ones to make social calls.

Kate closes her eyes as she yanks the door open, probing at the split-open place inside of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. Why do these things always hurt so bad? It's like the smaller the injury, the more excruciating it is.

"Hey, come in."

"Uh, sorry. Not Lanie."

Oh god. No. This is not happening. No no no.

Kate peels her eyes open, slowly, as if the threat will dissipate if she gives it enough time before she faces it. Only, it doesn't. Of course not, that would be way too easy. She's met with the sight of Richard Castle, unshaven and a little haggard, leaning against her doorframe.

"How did you get my address?" She blurts out, because of course her brain has decided that of the litany of questions she has for him, this is the most pressing.

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in that infuriatingly sheepish smirk and his shoulder lifts too, the entire left side of his body lifting in some approximation of _oops_. "Lanie gave it to me. She called me earlier today. Said she thought that I was being an idiot, and I really needed to come talk to you."

"And you just dropped everything?" Kate arcs an eyebrow, acutely aware that she's standing bare-faced in front of him and oh, she's not even wearing a bra.

And yes, thank you, so they lived together for a small handful of days a few months back and he rescued her - naked! - from her bathtub, but still. That was before her heart sent feelers out towards him and had them singed right off with the arrival of his second ex-wife.

"For you? Of course." Castle says quietly, and she blushes like a total idiot, turning her face half-away from him as if that possibly makes it better in any way. "Is it still okay if I come inside? I could pretend to be Lanie, if you wanted."

She offers him the laugh she knows he must be searching her, but it's shadowy and really quite pathetic. "Come in. But please, no impersonations."

"Right." He grins, and this time it's the one that creases up the skin around his eyes, mirth settling in decadent ripples across his face. "You look. . .really good."

"You've looked better." She fires back, because really. His facial hair is delicately skirting the line between rugged and homeless. And he looks pallid, too. Like he hasn't slept in days.

Castle scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, following her lead and settling at the opposite end of her couch. He rests an arm along the back of it and his fingers are so tantalisingly close, she would only have to move scant inches for them to brush against her cheek.

"Yeah. I guess I've kinda let myself go a little over the past week or so. By myself in the Hamptons, I didn't see much point in uh. . .shaving."

Kate smirks, shaking her head at him and drawing a knee up onto the couch. It tilts her whole body towards him and his eyes rake over her, fixing at-

Oh. Crap. Some of the fabric of her shirt is trapped underneath of her and it's pulling taut across her chest and Castle is getting a whole lot more of a show than she'd really intended.

"And you didn't have time to take a shower before you came back to the city?'

"Hey!" Castle pouts at her, lifting an arm and sniffing delicately at the material of his shirt. "I showered. I smell just fine, thank you."

"Uh-huh." A pause, and Kate gathers every thread of courage at her disposal, refusing to let this newfound bravery unspool out of her grip. "So. Lanie called you. What exactly did she say?"

"That I should come back to the city. That Demming isn't an issue anymore. And that-" He winces, and she stiffens. "She was sick of you moping."

"I wasn't-" Kate starts, and then her bravado deflates and she sinks back into the couch, battling the urge to bury her face in her hands. "Okay. Maybe a little bit."

"Did you miss me, Detective?"

It's so stupid, so _girlish_, but- "Yes. I did."

"Oh." He says on a breath, his face and his voice and the sudden stiffness to his body as if he's just been punched in the solar plexus. "I missed you too, Kate."

It's so completely unfair of him to use her first name. Unfair of her traitorous body to burst into flame just at the sound of that one syllable, the roll off of his tongue and the hard crash against his teeth. "Did, um- did Lanie tell you anything else?"

"No, why? Is there something else?"

"I bumped into Gina." Kate murmurs, and Castle pales so quickly and so dramatically that it's almost comical. His mouth opens and he stares at her, and when she glances at his free hand where it rests on his thigh, she sees that he's trembling.

Oh, Rick. It must have been bad.

"She told me that it was over between you two. And then I told Lanie that - probably stupid of me - which I guess is why she called you." Kate says gently, finding herself desperate to reach out to him. It hits her hard, seeing him like this. All she wants is to hold his hand. Even if she hasn't ever done it before.

Castle clears his throat, his eyes shuttering closed against her. "Did Gina tell you why things ended?"

"She did, yeah."

"I'm sorry, Kate."

"It's okay. You don't have to be sorry. Not like you did it on purpose." She manages something that might be a laugh, earns herself a grimace from him for the effort. At least his eyes open again, and this time they actually manage to meet hers.

"I should never have gotten back together with her. Not when I. . .had feelings for someone else." He grits out, his face awash with dismay.

Kate sighs in sympathy, splays her palm at her knee to force herself not to touch him. "I understand why you did. You thought I was with Demming and you lost your chance."

And then his whole face opens up with light, brilliant and beautiful, and the tremulous hope of dawn blossoms over him. "I had a chance?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Uvivi**

* * *

Oh, _Castle_. The hurt she's caused him runs so terribly deep, gushing hot and strong in his veins just as surely as his lifeblood. And now she really gets it, this whole ruggedly dishevelled thing he's got going on. It isn't just that he was alone in the Hamptons but rather that she, Kate Beckett, has so knocked his confidence in himself that even basic maintenance seems pointless.

"Yeah." She says quietly, watching him through the smokescreen of her eyelashes. He's still reeling, she can tell just from the hitch in his chest. And with his mouth parted like that, his bottom lip full and inviting. . .she so badly wants to kiss him. "You had a whole lot more than a chance, Castle."

"What happened to us, Kate?" Castle says morosely, toeing out of his loafers and drawing a leg up onto the couch as if he's settling in for the long haul. The soft cotton of his t shirt pulls taut around his bicep as he shifts and Kate's mouth goes dry with how much she wants to feel those muscles around her. An embrace, yes, but also more energetic activities.

"What do you mean?"

"It felt like we were really getting somewhere. This past year you've become. . .my best friend. And I thought maybe we could be more than that. That we could be great. But then I screwed everything up."

"No, hey." Kate's heart breaks through the steel girders, the scaffolding she's erected around it and bursts right through her chest, her hand reaching out to grab for his. It's the first time - the very first time _ever_ - that she's held his hand and it feels like the earth is shifting beneath them. "You didn't do anything wrong. You asked me to go with you, I said no, so you invited someone else. No one could fault you for that."

For a moment, she isn't entirely convinced that he's heard her at all; he's staring so fervently at the clasp of their hands. And then he glances up at her, and the arm draped across the back of her couch comes closer, enough that his fingertips can brush across the skin of her cheek.

This is a _lot_ of touching. The only time they've ever really touched each other before is for rescue, or for punishment on her part, but this? This is gratuitous, and tender, and her knees are about five seconds away from gushing onto the floor.

"I should have waited longer. You're worth waiting-" He cuts himself off, shoots a tentative glance at her, and Kate lets her face look as open and forgiving as she possibly can. "A very long time for."

What was she saying before? About not being sure of what Castle wants. About wanting more than just to be his conquest. His fingers slide, slow and careful towards her ear and bring with them a loose strand of her hair, tuck it back out of the way. And she knows. He wants everything.

"Castle, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you about going away with Demming."

"It's fine, Beckett. I guess we both screwed up, right?" He huffs a laugh, but he looks self-conscious and scolded like a little boy. It fills her with the absurd urge to mother him and Kate scoots closer on the couch, close enough that their knees brush together.

Careful not to look at him, Kate splays her free hand at his thigh. They've been sending each other mixed signals for so long, found themselves tangled up and ensnared in the crossed wires and each scuppered away to lick the raw sting of their hurt like wounded animals.

It has to stop. "Me more than you. But no more mistakes. No more lying about how I feel."

Parting her lips, Kate braces herself with the hand at his thigh and leans in, close enough that she can already taste him before he stiffens and jerks backward out of her reach. It stings, lacerating straight down into the pit of her stomach, but Kate takes a steadying breath and waits him out.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I just. . .want to talk first."

"We talked." Kate shrugs, proud of how even her voice sounds when it comes out. "I didn't think you would be the one to say no to making out on my couch."

His jaw drops and she can't help the smirk that wriggles at the corners of her mouth, has to let it unspool across her face. Richard Castle flustered is something she can definitely get used to. And take delicious advantage of.

"It's not that I don't want to." He huffs, pouting at her, and really. That's not exactly helping right now. "It's just that I still have more to say. And I have this feeling that once I start kissing you, I'm not going to be able to stop."

Her whole body gets washed through with a cleansing fire, skin breaking out in gooseflesh and a tightening in her guts that she hasn't felt in such a long time. Certainly not with Tom.

"Um-oh." She stutters, like an _idiot_, but at least it cracks his face open around a grin. "What more did you, uh, have to say?"

"When I invited you to the Hamptons with me, it really was just as a friend. You work so hard, and I just wanted to see you relax. But then when I was teasing you about skinny dipping and lotion, I realised that I really meant it. That I wanted to spend time with you outside of the precinct so we could start something."

He looks wiped out after his speech, exhausted, and he sags backwards against the couch and closes his eyes as if he's waiting for her to freak out or slap him or something. As if she didn't just come within a hair's breadth of kissing him not moments ago.

"I know. It scared me, how serious you were." Kate admits, more than a little ashamed of it. It's so incredibly pathetic, how the thought of Castle _wanting_ her had her stiff with terror when all she's done almost from the moment they met is think about how much she wants him.

In her bed. And then yes, more recently, in her heart too.

Castle grimaces and flips his hand underneath hers, knots their fingers together. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted you to see that I meant it. And that you're - Kate-" He waits for her to lift her chin, sits out the battle for her to meet his eyes until she's victorious. "That you're so much more than a conquest."

"Yeah?" She chews on her bottom lip, the corner of her mouth escaping into a smile that is entirely outside of her control.

And he beams. Bright and wide and so good, creases at the corners of his eyes and one side of his mouth lifting a little more than the other. A lopsided grin, and her heart turns somersaults because Castle is hot, she's known that, but he's also really, really cute.

"Yes. You're. . .I think we could be great together. So do you think maybe we could give it a shot? Being together."

Kate watches him for a long moment, takes wicked pleasure in the way his cheeks flush pink and his fingers tighten around hers. Gazing up at him, she pouts just a little and quirks an eyebrow. "Have you finished everything you had to say?"

"Um- yeah."

"Good." She grins, and then Kate slings a thigh over Castle's and sinks right down into his lap. He doesn't even have the time to let out the breath of surprise stuck in his throat, already her hands are cupping his cheeks to hold him in place and her nose is brushing his as she leans in and finally, finally brushes her mouth over his.

A part of her - below the waist, mostly - wants fast and frantic, to let the passion that has imbued their every interaction for the past eighteen months come spilling over. But Castle's hands come up, his body alive beneath her, and one splays between her shoulder blades as the other cradles the side of her face.

Their mouths move slow and oh, so good as they explore each other. Kate licks at the seam of his lips and he jerks, turning his head to break their kiss and panting against her cheek instead. "Kate. God. You're sure?"

"Castle." She breathes, carding a hand through his hair because _that's a thing she can do now_ and yes, it is every bit as soft as she has always imagined it must be. "I've spent the past month thinking about what I should have done differently. Thinking that I was never going to get the chance to tell you how I feel."

"And how do you feel?"

"I want to give us a shot. I want to be with you."

It's quite possibly the bravest thing she's ever said, but she's rewarded with the hot slick of Castle's tongue through her mouth, so she decides that the risk was most definitely worth it.

* * *

When her best friend strides through the doors of the morgue Lanie Parish is, quite frankly, terrified. What she did - calling Castle - it was. . .bad. A move that will quite possibly blow up in her face.

"Lanie!" Kate barks, and she stiffens, turning back around to face the indomitable detective as slowly as she can possibly manage to. She waits, shoulders slumped, for Kate to ream her out.

Instead, something weird happens. Beckett's whole face goes soft and her lips peel apart around a grin and then she turns to glance back at the doors and Lanie follows her gaze just in time to watch Richard Castle appear and head right for Kate's side, sliding his hand easily into hers and dusting a kiss over her cheekbone.

Oh. Ohhhhhh.

Her nefarious plan worked. Lanie is about half a second away from throwing her head back and cackling with delight when Kate reaches out, touches her arm.

"I want to thank you. We both needed that extra push that you gave. Thanks for seeing how stupid we were being, even when we couldn't."

"Anytime, Detective." Lanie grins, her gaze shifting back and forth between the two of them for several moments. "So, you two are. . .?"

"We're giving it a shot. Being a couple." Castle says, layer upon layer of delight and relief and cascading joy filtering through his words. He glances over at Beckett next to him and Lanie feels like maybe she ought to look away.

Give the two of them a private moment. "I'm so glad. I really couldn't take much more of either of you moping."

"Right." Kate laughs, shaking her head at herself. "Well. Thank you."

She turns to go and Lanie lets out a snort of disbelief, folding her arms across her chest and waiting for Kate to turn and face her again. "I don't think so, girlfriend. You two finally did the deed? I'm gonna need details."

Honestly? She has no idea which of the two of them is blushing harder.

* * *

**fin.**


End file.
